


As Lightning Gleaming Bright

by AuguriesofInnocence



Series: Green Man; Green Knight [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, BAMF Lydia, BAMF Nemeton, BAMF Stiles, Banshee Lydia Martin, Derek's eyebrows are their own character, F/M, Gen, Just so nobody gets an unpleasant (why) shock I guess, Lots of obscure medieval references, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Multi, Not Beta Read, Possibly Pre Lydia/Stiles/Peter and who knows I might throw Chris in too because I love him so much, Pre Steter, Pre-Slash, Sidhe Lydia Martin, ongoing series, pseudo history fantasy world, read the rest of the series or you will likely be confused, very not historically accurate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-25
Updated: 2018-04-25
Packaged: 2019-04-27 15:49:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14428941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuguriesofInnocence/pseuds/AuguriesofInnocence
Summary: The travelers reach an Inn and find themselves surrounded by wolves in human skin.  Good thing they were the most dangerous things in the dark of the night to begin with.





	As Lightning Gleaming Bright

They pull into the courtyard, greeted by the smell of livestock and the barking of dogs.  Lydia brushes the hair back from Stiles’ brow gently, loath to wake him; but wake him she does, with a chaste kiss to the quirk at the corner of his mouth.

 

Stiles opens his eyes and smiles, “You’re in fine form tonight, keep this up and I might actually think you like me.”

 

“What a concept.” She says wryly, lacing her fingers through his.

 

Outside a soft glow starts up inside the Inn, a candle lit, and she knows that soon the world will intrude upon this moment.  She darts a glance at their twined hands and then out the carriage window.

 

“Lydia?” Stiles asks, correctly gauging her expression, as always.

 

“I knew…I know this was always the goal.  Coming back here, Stiles.  And I thought…I think I’ve prepared everything possible, for everything I possibly could, I’m just, not so sure I adequately prepared myself.”

 

This time it’s Stiles whose hand reaches over to brush the single curl loose at her brow.

 

“You’re safe here, Lydia.  This land is safe now and always, always, for you.  Everyone from before, anyone who tried to hurt me, who hurt you...we turned the hunt upon them.  And I would glut myself on blood and bone once more, until not a creature breathed in this land but the two of us, if that was what it took to keep you safe.”

 

“I know.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“I’m done running.”

 

“We both are, and there’s nothing left to chase.”

 

The night is silent for just a moment more, both anchored to the feeling of the others hand in theirs.  “And if we must, we can always begin the hunt again.”

 

“Yes.”

 

A tentative knock comes on the carriage door but Lydia knew they were coming, and Stiles felt their steps upon the earth and so neither one startles.

 

Hand in hand they swing open the carriage door, slinging sharp smiles the way of the hapless stable boy, who shivers, then instinctively looks for a moment back into the dark of the courtyard for the person who’d just walked over his grave.

 

“Good evening, we’d like a room.”

 

The rattled stable boy leads the two travelers to the inn door, internally shaming himself for the well of dread building in the pit of his stomach.

 

The door scrapes open and Lydia and Stiles are greeted by the expressive eyebrows of the armed guard at the door who holds his hand out toward them wordlessly.  Eyebrows very clearly stating both “Payment, now.” And “Who travels by carriage in the middle of the night through this sort of terrain?” with deep suspicion.

 

Before the pair can do anything more than stare at his hand in bemusement, the guard’s bearded looming form is jostled swiftly aside and replaced by a suave looking man with excessively well-groomed facial hair.

 

“Forgive my nephew” the Innkeeper says smoothly, “he obviously doesn’t recognize quality even when it stands before him,” his words solicitous but his eyes sharp.

 

He continues talking in a flowery stream about the Inn’s availability, rates, safety, comfort, and on all the while his eyes carefully cataloging every discrepancy in their appearance and manner.  In the end seemingly not coming to any particular or damning conclusion.

 

“It’s strangely beautiful how he lies so easily with manner and form.” Stiles whispers lowly in Lydia’s ear as their host moves ahead to open up their room.

 

At this, Lydia notes, the muscle in the Innkeeper’s neck twitches a bit, as if he wants to turn and look at them, and she taps Stiles arm in warning.

 

“A quality found in all good Innkeepers” she murmurs in turn.

 

“I’m afraid I didn’t recognize your coat of arms, my Lord…” He turns about, nearly purring, crowding Stiles and rubbing the arm of Stiles’ fine jacket between his fingertips impudently.

 

“I’ve never seen this particular coat of arms, I’m afraid,” he continues, “I,

 

\- “A, Atishoo, Aa, Achoo” He interrupts himself, bursting into a violent fit of sneezing.

 

Stiles and Lydia studiously avoid noticing the vibrant flash of blue eyes while he’s indisposed.

 

“A, Apologies, -Achoo, I don’t know what’s come over me” He says, backing away from Stiles with all due haste.

 

“It’s a tree.” Stiles says abruptly, eyes slanted sideways, giving the man a moment to compose himself.

 

“A, a tree?” he asks, stifling a final sneeze and settling.

 

“For the Greenwood.  His Majesty was kind enough to grant me a measure of land for some…small service I inadvertently provided him during my travels.”

 

“Yes, several small services, for which he gave you a Knighthood and this entire shire. Including,” Lydia says dryly, “the land upon which we currently stand.”

 

“And the current Reeve? Argent?” The man holds himself very still, as if he might shatter otherwise, or perhaps it was that if answered wrongly he would rage until he tore the whole building down, and then mayhap the world after it.  His face twisting into a grimace that said he wasn’t entirely certain what the correct answer was.

 

“Sir Gerard?  He’s to go back to the King at Winchester.  His Majesty wants a word.  This land is now mine.  I’ve been given to understand he isn’t currently in residence, however, and the land has been left in the care of his children?  We hadn’t wanted to impose so late at night, especially in such weather.  There are few who would welcome travelers after dark. And” he says with a chilling laugh, “my wife often tells me I appear more congenial in the light of day.”

 

As if on cue thunder crashes and light crawls across the sky, spidery, illuminating the three standing loose and ready, like predators, and breaking the odd atmosphere in the room.

 

The Innkeeper ushers them into the room, grand as any player, “It’s all yours, we don’t get a great many travelers in this region, and those we do value their privacy enough to make the loss of space worth it.  I trust you number among them.”

 

“You’ve got us pegged.” Stiles says indolently, skimming his fingers along the soft brown furs piled on the unusually generous mattress.

 

“Wolf?” Lydia asks artfully, red mouth curved into a smile.

 

“Pardon?” He bites out, strangely.

 

“The furs, are they wolf?”

 

“Bear” He replies succinctly, his shoulders relaxing.

 

 

“It’s been years since I’d heard of anyone hunting bear.”

 

“All manner of creatures can be found in this forest that can’t be found elsewhere.” He smiles, incisors glinting under the candle light.

 

“My Nephew can prepare a decent stew, I’ll see you get some as soon as you rise, late nights garner late mornings. I’ll leave you to it Lord Greenwood, Lady Greenwood.”

 

“And you?” Stiles says, something in his voice drawing both of their attention.  

 

“My Lord?”

 

“What is your name, Goodman?”

 

“Peter, Sir, Peter Hale.”

 

“Master Hale…it suits you.”  He determines, the amber of his eyes holding Peter’s, burning like embers.

 

“My names is Stiles.” He gives, pushing the door closed slowly and holding Peter’s eyes until the latch clicks shut.

 

The weary travelers remain in silence until the sounds of footsteps recede, after which Stiles pulls a handful of red berries out of a pouch on his belt and scatters them across threshold.

 

“Well, that’s a relief.” Lydia says, watching the berries sprout and twist up to waist height, shuddering and shaking out newly sprouted leaves, heavy with a new supply of ripe, red berries.  “I thought for a moment it was your presence that repelled the poor man.”

 

“Don’t be ridiculous Lydia, I am a delight, and I’m quite certain he would agree.”

 

“Mmmm” she hums absently, watching as Stiles arranges freshly cut rowan about the perimeter of the room to his satisfaction.  “He was a bit familiar with you.  Stiles, won’t the wolves find it just a tad suspicious when they aren’t able to, you know, hear us or enter our room.”

 

“Oh probably,” he says, straightening up and giving her his first genuine smile of the evening, “but I guarantee that he already knows we’re not completely human and until he can figure out just what we are I don’t think he’ll chance a move.  Besides, calling attention to it by actually asking would be impolite, Lyds, and he seems the type to take care with that sort of thing.”

 

“Yes, very slick, that one.  I think you’re right, but I also think we’ve intrigued him and I’m not sure yet if that is a good thing or not.”

 

He walks across the room, and once and takes her by the hand, looking down into worried hazel eyes.

 

“We decided long ago that eventually this is where we would make our home.  I’ve roots planted deep and wide, and I won’t insult you by asking again if you’re sure you want to tie your fate to mine…”

 

“Damned right you won’t.”

 

“so if Peter Hale and his ilk prove to be trouble we’ll take care of it, as we always have.”

 

“Stiles, you like him. I know you, and I could tell.”

 

“He couldn’t though.  And besides, if they prove to be the kind of trouble we like, we’re going to have to learn to deal with that as well.  This is where we’ll stand our ground and face the future we didn’t think we’d get to have.”

 

The tension drains from her body, and she raises up on her toes and presses a kiss to his lips.  She pulls back and the smile has spread from her lips into her eyes which shine with real hope, “We have a future here, together.”

 

“Come to bed, husband.”  And with a bright laugh she pulls him down into the furs, clothes and all.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to anyone who's reading this. I hope you enjoyed it. In case the tags weren't clear I'm attempting to keep each part of the series contained for the most part instead of writing a chaptered fic. This should eventually become some variant of romance involving Peter/Stiles, Peter/Stiles/Lydia, Peter/Stiles/Lydia/Chris, or Peter/Stiles/Lydia/Derek. There will be NO LOVE TRIANGLES because eww, only sweet sweet polyamory. There may be some blood and a few tears but I promise everything will resolve itself happily in the end. I heartily apologize for any errors, it's been a long time since I've published anything I've written.


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